


All My Days with You

by flippyspoon



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Suicidal Ideation, Well - Freeform, anyway, because, but barely, flangst, more of a reference to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippyspoon/pseuds/flippyspoon
Summary: Three times Billy almost said "I love you" and one time he finally did. For Introvertia!
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 36
Kudos: 271
Collections: harringrove for BLM





	All My Days with You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Introvertia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Introvertia/gifts).



Day 5

Steve Harrington talks a lot.

Billy doesn’t remember him talking this much in school.

But when Max asks Steve to “sit with Billy” because he’s not quite ready to be left alone in the house yet, Steve comes sweeping in with two bags of groceries and seemingly already in the middle of a conversation that Billy didn’t know they were having.

“I got bacon? Max said you guys needed food and I know your step-mom’s been working a lot, right, so I got bacon and stuff for either BLTs or club sandwiches. Is there bacon in club sandwiches? That’s how we make them here anyway. I don’t know if it’s different in California. And I got a bunch of chips and stuff and junk food because I figure, if you survived the Mind Flayer, you deserve some Twinkies, right?”

Steve is already unpacking the groceries in the Mayfield kitchen while Billy blinks at him and hovers by the front door. He’s barely able to be around people, which is difficult when you can’t quite be left alone yet (according to Dr. Owens).

MTV is on in the living room. Steve nods his head and hums along to Robert Palmer.

“Miiiight as well face it, you’re addicted to love!” Steve turns on his heel and catches Billy’s eye as he approaches slowly, limping into the kitchen, running his thick fingers through his now too short blond curls. His hair’s only just begun to grow out. He stands on the edges of his feet in his socks and watches Steve with pursed lips.

There is no normal way to hang out with a person who’s only there because if they leave there’s a slight chance you might get in the bathtub and never come out. But Steve just sings along to Robert Palmer and looks Billy up and down.

“Hey, you look a lot better than the last time I saw you.” He rips open a Twinkie and breaks it in half, offering Billy the larger portion. Billy takes it and stares at it for a second as if it might be poisoned. But when Steve takes a bite he takes one too. “I mean that was in that freaky military hospital and everything. But still. Look a lot better.”

Billy manages to clear his throat and say: “Thanks.”

“What’s this?” Steve grabs The Post-It off the fridge with his mouth still full of Twinkie.

Billy feels like the floor might drop out from under him. He wants to die...though in a less serious way than he’s wanted to die from time to time lately.

Max wrote The Post-It. Susan pretends not to see it, which is a relief.

The Post-It says: _Don’t kill yourself! Love, Max._

“It’s supposed to be a joke,” Billy mumbles. He stuffs the remainder of his Twinkie in his mouth. Chews. Swallows as Steve stares at him. “I mean...it’s not a joke and it’s a joke. You had to be there, I guess.”

The Post-It actually helps sometimes and even cheers him up. Sort of.

Billy counts five alligators before Steve says, “Good advice. Can’t argue with it.” He puts the Post-It back and spins on his heel. “So what do you like? Club sandwiches? I’ll toast the bread and butter both sides and everything. Oh, I brought _Fletch_ over on video too. I mean, you don’t have to watch it. I know I’m just kinda... _here._ ”

“No, we can watch it.” Billy says. He frowns, watching Steve flutter around the kitchen making sandwiches as if it’s not the darkest and most awkward thing in the world to hang out at your former high school rival’s house all night to make sure he doesn’t kill himself after he came back from being possessed by an interdimensional monster.

Billy says, “I-”

Billy shuts his mouth. 

He was about to say, “I love you.”

Which would be completely _crazy_. And he’s got enough crazy these days. He’s just had some weird impulses lately. The other day, out of nowhere, he started talking to Max about a stuffed elephant he had as a kid and burst into tears. So the random “I love you” really doesn’t _mean_ anything.

Steve whips around, a tomato in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Nothing. Just thanks. Harrington.”

Max would laugh her ass off if she heard him say that. Getting him to agree to let people “sit” with him was...a battle. To say the least. Dishes were shattered in the process.

Steve nods and smiles softly. “Of course.”

* * *

Day 97

These days Dr. Owens suggests that Billy “check in with himself” on occasion. It took a while to figure out what that meant, but now it’s a matter of habit.

He checks in with himself now and the verdict is very good.

He is sprawled on Steve Harrington’s salmon colored den carpet, leaning up against a plush cushion in front of the couch. His jeans feel softer than usual since they dried via body heat after Steve shoved him into the pool. His hair, which has grown a little bit, is still damp, and so is Steve’s. Steve lays perpendicular to him and, most importantly, his head rests against Billy’s legs. He often uses Billy’s body as a pillow when they’re lazing around his house. He’s casual about it. No big deal. Billy doesn’t stop him. He’s only grateful, even if Steve is making a new damp spot on his leg.

He is sleepy, excessively comfortable, and full of pizza. _Magnum P.I._ is on TV.

“You sure you’re cool with the movie?” Steve’s voice sounds raspy from the combination of chlorinated pool water, cigarettes, and chilly air. He turns his head and his cheek is pressed up against Billy’s thigh. 

“Yeah, it’s not till seven,” Billy says. “We’ll catch a second wind by then.”

He means because they’ve been hanging out all day and even that was an extension of hanging out the night before. Steve got promoted to supervisor at Family Video and Billy’s been pulling long hours at the animal shelter (which he finds he _loves_ ). But they found themselves with an entire three-day weekend and so far, they’ve spent the bulk of it with each other. 

“Cool,” Steve says. “I just wanted to hang out with Robin once this weekend. She’s been so busy studying. Think she feels left out.”

The movie is _The Money Pit_ , which Robin has said she expects will be “numbingly banal,” but which they all agreed on.

Billy likes Robin, but it’s difficult to ignore the swell of jealousy.

But as if reading his mind, Steve stops him before he spirals into insecurity. “But... _this_ has been really fun.” Steve chews his lip and looks over at him. “I missed playing ball. And you’ve gotten so much better.”

Billy covers the giddiness with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t patronize me, pretty boy. Ya wiped the floor with me.”

Steve cackles at that. They played basketball outside on and off for two hours. It was both invigorating and frustrating. Billy isn’t the athlete he used to be. His limbs still feel too stiff because they’re learning how to be his limbs again, and the chill air of early spring doesn’t help. But even losing badly to Steve feels fantastic.

“Don’t you remember when you first got back?” Steve said. “You were barely walking much less running. You’ll be dunking again in no time. Doing those flashy moves you used to do.”

“I was just showing off back then.” Billy smiles sleepily. He doesn’t add the addendum: _for you_. Maybe he doesn’t need to.

“Do you need anything?” Steve says. He turns and lays on his side, still resting his head on Billy’s thigh. “You wanna pop?”

“I wanna smoke,” Billy murmurs. “But I don’t wanna get up.”

“Mm. Me either. Comfy.” Steve’s eyes slip shut and Billy takes the opportunity to fully stare at him and then his hand betrays his mind by reaching out and combing fingers through Steve’s still damp hair.

Steve says, “Hmm.” He doesn’t open his eyes. The corner of his mouth turns up. 

So Billy runs his fingers through Steve’s hair for a while and the “I love you” catches in his throat. 

* * *

Day 143

“WOOOOOOOO!!! YEEEEEEAH!” Steve crows as they run down Lawrence Avenue.

It’s midnight in Chicago and young men in denim and leather are still pouring out of the Aragon Ballroom, fresh from the Motorhead Concert. Billy leans against a scaffolding on the sidewalk to light a smoke and watch Steve run ahead, jump up to touch a streetlight, and run back. The wind is blowing through his hair. Steve’s wearing this old leather bomber jacket that makes him look a little tough and which he’s been wearing since he dragged Billy out to see _Top Gun_ three times. He still doesn’t look like a guy you’d find at a Motörhead concert, but he seemed to enjoy himself. 

It sure riled him up anyway. 

Steve howls again and lopes over to land in front of Billy, breathless. The Motörhead show was the capper to a whole day in the city that included a Cubs game.

It wasn’t noon yet before Billy decided it was the best day of his life.

“You have fun?” Steve says brightly. He sounds like a camp counselor. 

Billy smirks around his smoke and offers it to Steve who takes a long drag. “Hell yeah, I did.”

He’s calmer now, but most of the show he spent jumping up and down, screaming, and packed in close to Steve inside the rowdy crowd. At one point they were both shoved up against a wall together, close enough to kiss, bass thumping through their bodies and joining the beat of their hearts. He’s still uncomfortably sweaty, but it doesn’t feel too bad in the night air.

“Good.” Steve nods firmly to himself. 

Billy leaves him with the cigarettes and all at once takes off running and then leaps to hit the street light. He hits it a little higher than Steve managed and just that accomplishment following the show and the day and all of it with Steve gives him a fresh adrenaline rush. The city is dark but still awake with the denizens of a late Saturday night. 

Billy throws his head back and howls. Steve howls with him, running up behind him to join him on the corner. They howl and howl and then burst out laughing.

“C’mon!” Steve punches his shoulder. They have to catch the L back to the car. They parked about a mile from Wrigley Field. 

Now they run and even the people still out on the sidewalk don’t seem quite real. Nothing is real but the two of them and the city, the glowing moon and stars. 

The platform is empty when they run up the stairs two at a time and the train is sitting right there with its doors open as if it were waiting just for them. Billy and Steve run in, sweaty and panting, and stomp through the empty train car all the way to the back where they plop down, practically on top of each other as the train pulls out. 

“Heh.” Steve is still catching his breath, but he glances at Billy and they share _something_. There’s no way to say whatever it is. 

“You’re crashing at my place tonight, right?” Steve says.

“Yeah.” Billy nods. “Sure.” 

“Okay good.” 

They sit back and Billy wants to say _it_ so badly, he has to close his eyes and focus on his breathing and Steve breathing next to him. He feels high. Like anything is possible. Anything, even…

Steve’s hand is scalding and heavy when it lands on his leg. He grips Billy’s thigh. There’s no mistaking it. Billy’s eyes fly open and he turns his head to see Steve looking at him. Really, it’s no different a look than Steve’s been giving him the past couple months. Maybe before that. Maybe forever.

Steve says, “Uh.”

Billy nods like a dope as if Steve asked a question and lunges forward to kiss him as the train barrels through Chicago and in seconds they’re all over each other. Steve’s mouth is cool and still tastes like beer and cigarettes and he smells so good Billy might be levitating. He tugs on the lapels of Steve’s jacket and mouths along his jaw and down to his throat.

He almost whispers it this time: “I love you.”

* * *

Day 143 and a half

It’s four o’clock in the morning and Billy checks in with himself.

 _Fantastic_.

Steve’s bedroom smells like sex and sweat. Billy lies naked, propped up against the headboard. He smokes and eyes Steve who is also naked and lying on his side next to him, propped on his elbow, tracing the biggest and ugliest of Billy’s scars with his finger.

“You can’t stop smiling,” Steve says, cracking the silence. He grins at Billy who, indeed, cannot physically stop smiling.

“Neither can you, smartass.” 

“I know.” Steve ducks his head and kisses Billy’s chest. “I just really like seeing you smile.”

“Cornball,” Billy says. He sticks the smoke in his mouth and tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair and this time, he isn’t the least bit self-conscious. “You hate Motörhead.”

“With a passion,” Steve whispers. “But it made you happy.”

Billy blushes so deeply, he feels it in his feet.

“Lots of things make me happy,” he murmurs.

“I know!” Steve smacks Billy’s chest. “I know, it’s been so cool to see you open up since you got back, you know? Like it was so gradual at first. And then I remember the first time I saw you laugh when you got back. Probably the third time we watched _Fletch_. The first two times I don’t think you even registered you were watching a movie-”

“S’probably nervous on top of everything else ‘cause you were there,” Billy says. 

It’s weirdly liberating to admit such a thing, and anyway, it makes Steve smile with his eyes. He gets all squinty. 

“You laughed and it was like a miracle,” Steve goes on. “And then when you started playing ball again and you started working at the shelter and got all excited about the animals and when we took Max skating and… It was, I dunno… It was um...nice. To see you happy. And like, better. I know you still have hard days, but you know.”

Billy’s half afraid if he opens his mouth a bunch of cartoon hearts will spill out. But he manages to say, “And are _you_ happy, sunshine?”

Steve raises an eyebrow and climbs on top of him. Billy drops his cigarette in an ashtray and Steve kisses the tip of his nose. “I’m _ecstatic_ ,” Steve whispers.

Billy takes a deep breath and says, “Steve...I love you.”

Squinty smile. “I know. I love you too.”

Billy punches his shoulder. “You’re not supposed to say _I know_ , Han Solo!”

“I mean, I knew that like the first day,” Steve says, laughing. “Like Day 1.”

“Of when I got back?”

“No,” Steve says. “Of when you first moved here.”

“You did not…” Billy says, uncertain. He wraps his arms around Steve, who settles on top of him. “Did you?”

“I knew. But I hated you. Now I love you.” Steve says, like it’s perfectly normal. “Glad you stuck around for me to fall in love with you. Good job.”

“I’ll take that.” Billy kisses his hair. “Good job, me.”


End file.
